


Denim and Demon Blood

by cajunquandary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cajunquandary/pseuds/cajunquandary
Summary: When Dean fails to back up the Reader on a hunt, she almost pays the price.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Kudos: 28





	Denim and Demon Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @supernatural-jacklesSPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge, @herstarburststories Follower Celebration and @waywardsistershy Daily Imagine Prompt Two. Prompts used are in bold and all kind of smashed into each other in my head, leading me to create this. It’s is my very first time writing anything smutty and one of my first creations back from hiatus, unbeta’d as usual so any mistakes belong to yours truly. Thank you for those who cheered me on through the process! @negans-lucille-tblr @icecream-and-gadreel @thinkinghardhardlythinking @carryonmywaywardcaptain Your advice helped make this happen. FEEDBACK IS LIFE.

Y/N was nothing short of pissed. Foul blood and remnants of demon dripped from her jeans. Still heart still pounding with the raw adrenaline of the fight, she stormed out of the back alley and towards the slick black Impala idling patiently in the street. What she couldn’t decide on was what was worse? The demon catching her with her guard down, her partner not having her back, or that she’d had to rely on him anyway. For years she’d hunted alone. Why had this time been different?

Of course, she knew the reason, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

There was a very large, very handsome and charming distraction. One that nearly cost her life. If nothing else, this could not be allowed to happen again. Y/N hunted with the Winchester men from time to time when they needed backup. She knew them as nothing more than twisted monster-killing versions of coworkers. Instead of standing at a coffee pot on a midday break, she would share a round of drinks at a bar, covered in God-knows what.

She reached the car and yanked open the trunk, searching for a change of clothes in her bag. Dean advanced quickly to her side, reminding her to “be easy with the goddam car.”

Y/N ignored him, and there in the middle of the dark, empty street, pulled off her blood-soaked clothes and slipped into a spare set of pants and wool pullover. The chill of the night raised goosebumps until they covered her skin, and Dean was mesmerized by them.

“Just gonna stand there and stare, Winchester? Or are you gonna be useful and get in the car?” She snapped, feeling his eyes on her.

This broke the spell, and Dean clenched his jaw and sulked towards the driver’s door, moaning as if in pain when she slammed the trunk shut. Begrudgingly, Y/N slid into the front seat, ready for the trip back home to be over already.

Typically, Dean would turn on the radio or put in his personal cassette mix; tonight, the air of the cab was thick and heavy and all too quiet. Y/N knew that he was waiting for her to talk, to yell or at least something, but she just sat there, legs crossed and arms folded, eyes staring into nothing. She was positioned as far away from him as she could possibly be.

Dean sighed, knowing that he should have been there sooner. He should have called to tell her there were two demons rather than one. He gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible, until his nails dug into his palms and the skin over his knuckles grew whiter than an apple core, skin protesting under the stretch. All of this could have been avoided if he’d just made the damn call instead of using it as an excuse to come see her. In his defense, he begged her to wait for him, but the hardened huntress was headstrong. Once she got a lead, she chased it like a bloodhound until it was over, one way or another.

Y/N heard his sigh and saw him tense, but she was still too upset with him. Would a phone call have really been that much of an inconvenience? Or did Dean just not give a crap? She sensed him open his mouth in an effort to speak, but no words came and his mouth clamped shut again, temple throbbing with frustration.

“Unless that’s an apology coming out of your mouth, Winchester, I don’t want to hear it.” Y/N diverted her eyes from the road towards Dean, locking onto his gaze.

Man, if her eyes were daggers, I’d be dead, Dean thought.

Her sharp, stony regard froze him for a moment, just long enough for her to break it and reach towards the radio. His hand slapped hers away in reflex, used to forcefully at times reminding Sam that driver picks the music. That was the match that lit the powder keg. Y/N punched him in the arm just hard enough to make him understand how much she was done with his bullshit.

The whole time she was seething at him, though, it was all she could do to keep her eyes off of him. It was bad enough that the whole car smelled like him—leathery and woodsy and just the right level of musk. It was intoxicating and threatened to undo her from the inside out. She struggled to hold it together, knowing she had every right to be furious with the man, but feeling the anger fade away to… something new. Something warm and growing within her core, radiating through her whole being in gentle electric waves that mirror the steady rumble of Baby’s engine.

When his hand had knocked hers away from the dash, the touch felt like a sip of cool water after wandering parched and dying through the desert for an unknown amount of time; when she’d punched him, she tried to not only make a statement, but to send the unwanted feeling back to where it came from. The attempt was unsuccessful however, and only made her want more. She was quickly losing control.

“You seem angry.”

“No shit, Dean.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Dean’ now is it?”

“Shut up, Winchester.” She scowled, now unable to pull her eyes away from him. The sparse light of the cab lit the angles of his face beautifully. As he moved and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, different bits of him illuminated: the edge and twitch of his jaw, clenching and unclenching, his brows furrowed, dark eyes trained on the road ahead, a thin line of sweat running from his hairline downwards, tracing his throbbing carotid down to the valley of his collarbone, pausing for a moment before continuing its journey down his chest until it disappeared behind the flannel. Y/N shook her head in a frustrated attempt to withdraw her attention from the handsome jerk.

Dean took notice of her lingering, now much kinder, eyes. He watched out of the corner of his own as her pupils dilated, giving her away. His face lifted a little in a contented smirk, shoulders rising as he adjusted his posture once more with a new found confidence.

“Why are you so angry?”

Y/N grimaced, again ripped back to the present and away from her fantasies. “You know what, I’m not anymore.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. There’s a reason I hunt alone. You can’t trust anybody but yourself,” she spat.

Dean nodded, understanding his mistake and honestly wanting to make up for it. He just didn’t know how. Talking things through always worked on Sam, so he thought he might give it a shot. “Well you still seem pissed.”

“You know what, Winchester?” Y/N pivoted in her seat so that she was completely facing him, so he could feel the full force of what she was about to unleash. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart, and when you say I seem angry, I get angrier. And there’s nothing like a mad woman. So, if you know what’s good for your pighead, stop making it worse. Besides, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

The old car pulled into her drive, taking the bumps and dips like a champ. Y/N couldn’t wait to be far away from Dean—to see his taillights flying back out towards the road. Before Dean could even pull to a stop in front of the small cabin, Y/N leapt from the car. As fast as he could, Dean threw it in park and took out the key, discarding it on the front seat. Y/N had already retrieved her bag from the trunk and was making the short trek up to the front door. Dean bounded behind her, not wanting to lose his shot with the huntress he’d secretly grown so fond of in the last years.

Y/N reached for the doorknob, but Dean’s hand covered it first, blocking her and coming dangerously close. She could feel herself straining to touch him, to feel that electricity surge through her again, but she fought it with everything she had. She wasn’t that kind of girl. If Dean Winchester wanted a one-night stand, he would have to find it elsewhere.

The two hunters stood there, squared off at each other yet close enough to share breaths. Their eyes were locked, each determined to win against the other.

Dean broke first, slowly lifting his hand to stroke the side of Y/N’s face then cupped it tenderly. Although the touch sent shockwaves through her, expending her resolve, Y/N didn’t flinch. She caught and held her breath, steeling herself against him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I should have called. I…” Dean’s face fell, bringing it dangerously more close to hers. “I just wanted to see you again. I missed you, and if anything had happened to you tonight I never—” His voice broke, tears gathering along his closed lashes. When he opened his eyes, the deep green of them, floodlit by the full moon above, forced the withheld breath from Y/N.

She began to tremble lightly, choking out a quiet, “Really?”

Y/N dropped the bag to the porch deck, searching his eyes deeply for answers, her mind racing miles a minute. Was this another dream? She loved and could appreciate both of the brothers, but here was Dean, standing before her, close enough to exchange body heat, asking for her. Wanting her.

He released a strained chuckle, a single tear flowing free down his cheek now. “Of course, Y/N. If I could leave all this shit behind, if it all finally ended, all I’d want to do is come home to you.”

She reached an unsteady hand to wipe it away, leaning in closer. He met her the rest of the way and let out a shaky sigh of relief when their foreheads met, lips close, parted and ready. Y/N wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, drawing her body in closer to feel every inch of him.

She whispered with closed eyes, completely enraptured in him, “I dare you to kiss me, then.”

Without hesitation, Dean scooped her even tighter in his arms, stumbling backwards into the wall of the cabin. When their lips met, Y/N shuddered. They were so warm and needy, Dean’s tongue teasing hers, making her want—no, need—more. She lifted her leg up slightly, wrapping her ankle around his, the growing bulge under his jeans so deliciously close to her raging hearth. She moaned into his mouth, dizzy and starting to lose balance.

He played on the shift and spun them around, pinning her up against the wall. With one arm braced above her, the other still around her waist, Dean pressed into her, grinning as she gasped, her mouth falling open.

“You know,” He growled playfully in her ear, teeth grazing the soft spot just behind it. “I kinda like when you’re angry.”

Y/N panted as he gently sucked and nipped along the side of her neck, desperately reaching for the words. “Oh yeah?”

He drew back, giving her a chance to catch her breath. If it weren’t for his knee between her legs, she would be a puddle on the ground. Dean took a moment to etch the image in his mind: her face flushed and shoulders relaxed, mouth slack and eyes blown, mouth slightly ajar and silently begging for more of him. He sported a large, toothy smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle and her heart swell.

Up until this moment, Y/N had no idea the extent of her feelings. Like everything else, she stifled them, burying them deep down. For the first time, she acknowledged to herself through woozy thoughts that she had been in love with the Winchesters. Though unlike Sam, this love was different, and right now it devoured her.

Dean elaborated, taking his hand off of her waist and moving it up to the nape of her neck and grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Yeah. You’re so hot when you’re angry. I love to watch you fight.”

She tensed against his utter hold over her and gripped the front of his shirt, stretching it tightly across his chest. “You want to watch me fight, Winchester? Then let’s fight,” She dared him, lowering her eyes in defiance.

A look of pure sin drifted over his face, reminding her of the days when he wore the mark of Cain. Finding her strength again, Y/N shoved him backwards with just enough force to create a few feet of distance, then grounded her feet, ready to spar.

Dean lunged forward, hoping his shear size would be able to get her to the ground. She dodged his advance expertly, though, sending the over-excited man into the wall. Before he could turn, she leapt onto his back, arms locked around his throat, providing only enough pressure to distract him. She pressed her heel into the back of his knee, causing him to stumble and catch himself just as he approached the ground. In defense, he rolled out of the fall, releasing her grip on him.

She lay face up, considering her next move when Dean flipped back on top of her, pinning her legs down with his and securing her wrists in his hands.

“Hey!” Y/N protested. In one smooth move, Dean gripped both of her wrists in one of his against the hard wood of the deck and withdrew a set of handcuffs.

Y/N gave in to his spell, completely consumed as she gazed up at his silhouette against the starlit blanket of night, moon still casting long shadows across his determined face.

Without another word, he stood up and pulled her by the cuffs with him before tossing her over his shoulder with ease. With every step, Y/N whimpered from the heat and force of his shoulder into her lower stomach. It was a wonderful discomfort. As Dean gently opened the front door and slowly closed it behind them, she grabbed at the back of his shirt, digging hungrily for skin contact.

Dean let out a low chuckle and turned his head to kiss her hip through the thick material of her sweater, drawing a giggle from her as well. His tone changed a little, and Dean supported her gently as he laid her on the bed and fumbled for the lamp he knew was there.

With a twist and a click, warm light flooded the room, revealing puffs of cold breath in the air. Dean look over her lovingly, taking in her curves and the revisiting goosebumps present on her arms. “Would you like me to start a fire?” He asked.

“I think you already have, Dean.”

He raised his brow playfully at hearing his first name leave her lips again, loving the way it rolled out of her perfect, breathless mouth. He shook his head, a pink tint spreading over freckle-dusted cheeks. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the key, leaning over to unlock the cuffs.

Her hands, though released, lingered on his with a strong grip. As he straightened back up, she followed, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N licked and bit at her bottom lip, struggling between needing his weight back upon her to ease the growing ache inside and knowing that this—them—couldn’t last forever.

Dean leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go make that fire.”

As he turned to walk away, Y/N found her voice, though it was riddled with want. “Dean.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, legs bowed more than normal to accommodate for the lack of extra room in his pants. “Do you not want to…” She trailed, worry growing in her chest that she let it go to far.

“I do if you do. I’ve wanted you for so long.” He left with an easy smile to the next room, where he began loudly tossing logs into the old fireplace.

Y/N looked down at the nightstand to her side and reached to gingerly touch the handcuffs. It was all so surreal, and her head swam. She moved to lift off her sweater, but paused when the fabric touched her nose and she accidentally breathed in his lingering and intoxicating scent. With arms suspended and sweater halfway over her head, she didn’t see him come back in.

“Need some help?” He offered. She nodded. With one hand, he lifted it away and tossed it behind him on the chair. With the other, Dean set a bottle and two glasses down next to the handcuffs. “My turn.” He shrugged out of the flannel jacket and lifted the bottom of his shirt slowly, making sure that her eyes followed the hem, taking in every muscle and scar.

Unable to stop herself, Y/N looped her fingers in his belt and yanked him closer, her lips finding the first scar and moving to the next. Dean’s skin drew tight as he flexed against the touch, and he ripped his shirt off the rest of the way impatiently. Head falling back and mouth open as her kisses grew stronger and travelled lower. The subtle grunts falling from him drove her, letting her know when she was hitting all the right spots. Her hands followed the line of his belt, barely brushing and tickling his skin as they worked closer to the clasp. When she released it, Dean snapped his head back down, hunger in his eyes. He took a faltering step back and lifted the bottle of Johnny Walker to his lips, forgoing the glass and swallowing leisurely. Y/N stood on her tip toes to reach his exposed neck and pepper it with kisses.

After a few swallows, the bottle produced a small pop as his lips released it. He let out a long, contented sigh and pressed the bottle into Y/N’s hand. She withdrew from his neck and reveled at the desire in his eyes. Wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, Y/N grasped his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. He moaned involuntarily into her mouth; brows drawn and face twisted in yearning. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked, driving him so close that she began to lose balance. Her legs grew weaker from his clothed erection pressed against the bare skin of her belly.

When she broke away, the scent of the fire wafted into the room. With the bottle in her hand already, she swallowed a draught from it before exchanging the bottle for the cuffs on the nightstand. “Can we still use these?” She asked, biting the corner of her mouth.

Dean traced his fingers from her shoulders down her arms, lifting the one still resting behind his head and combining it with the other. In a blink, the cuffs were back on her.

“Well, Winchester, what are you waiting for?” She purred, bound hands pawing at the puzzle of his pants button.

“That’s Dean to you, darlin’.” He took a step forward and guided her down with him to the bed, the coolness of the blankets sending chills through them both.

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair as he wrestled out of his jeans, fingertips tingling as they lifted it the opposite direction than it always lay. She pouted when he moved too far out of reach while kicking his pants off of the last ankle. She lifted her arms above her head and angled to get a better view of him and drew in a sharp breath at the sight. Dean was fully exposed now, his erection long and heavy resting in his hand.

He felt her reaction and whipped his eyes up to study her face, brows stitching together again and clenching his teeth, lips parted slightly.

Y/N was squirming, lids blinking heavily at the glorious sight of him. Her hands flew to her own jeans and she fought with them desperately and lamenting at the sudden difficulty. “Fuck,” she prayed aloud.

Dean’s tongue flicked between his teeth and he pulled at his bottom lip as he teased her, his hand slowly caressing the length of him.

“Fuck, Dean! Please!”

“That’s better, Y/N. Please what?”

“Dean, please, help me out of these!”

Dean obliged, but pulled her bottoms and underwear down tantalizingly slow. She writhed in need, starved of his touch. When she moved too much, Dean would stop and wait for her to calm, until her arms were again outstretched above her head. By the time she was finally bare, tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes and her little moans had grown almost constant.

He began his kisses at her navel and worked his way down to the hollow of her hips. Before reaching the part she so urgently needed release from, he stopped and crawled on top of her, resting his legs up against hers and pulling a loose blanket up and over them.

Dean then relaxed so that his dick settled right in between the outside of her folds and seized the resulting cry from her lips with his. She balled her fists and tried to wrap her restricted arms around him, but the sharp metal bit into her wrists. In an effort to assuage the tight coil within her, Y/N began to push and rub her soft skin against his.

Dean whined and gasped from the friction and the heat of them quickly filling the blanket. He began to knead her back. He nipped along her collarbone, letting his head lay on her chest. Her heartbeat echoed loudly into his ear, her chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths. He tracked his hand down the valley of her breasts, stopping just a moment on each one to lift and massage deeply, then down the midline of her stomach to her waiting pussy. “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet!”

Y/N shook at the stroke of his perfectly calloused hands on the delicate skin. She garbled out, “D-dean… Please, I… I need you inside me.”

Unable to hold out any longer, Dean guided his tip to her entrance and thrust himself into her, taking several attempts before bottoming out because she was so tight. She spread her knees apart father until her legs held him firmly in place, her ankles anchoring the vice grip. The symphony of moans, whimpers and pleading coming from Dean filled her just as much as his cock did, stretching her to her absolute limits. Just as they’d practiced on the porch, Y/N rolled him onto his back and began to grind back and forth, occasionally shifting her position, paying special attention to the angles when each new sound came out of him. His head was pressed back into the pillow and he arched his back slightly to correct the angle of his public bone, making beautiful sounds as she moved.

As the bone hit and bore down on her clit, every cell in her body began to unravel. She stammered out his name as she clenched tighter and tighter, growing louder all the while. Just as he felt her about to come, Dean pulled her flat to his chest by the handcuffs so when she broke, he felt every bit of it. The shock waves hit her like a tsunami; she barely noticed when they rolled back over so he was on top and back in control.

Dean drove into her at a solid pace—not too fast, not too slow. He wanted to savor every moment. As Y/N slowly regained power over herself, she countered his thrusts. As he continued his pace, his shaft reached deeper and harder with every move. Dean began to quake and opened his eyes to finds hers.

“God I’m gonna… I’m close, Y/N.”

“Keep going baby, come inside me, it’s okay.” Her words pushed him to the edge. He tried so hard to draw it out longer, but when she locked her lips with his passionately, sucking and pulling, he tremored and released. Y/N jolted at the pulsing quiver of his dick within her, eyes closed tightly as her walls clenched around him, extracting every bit of him before he crumpled into her.

Chasing their breaths together, it was a while before either of them moved. Dean reached for the key, unlocked the cuffs, causing them to clatter loudly to the floor, then took her small, capable hands in his. He propped his head up on his elbow, enjoying the spent look on her face.

All Y/N could focus on were the deep green folds of his eyes, getting lost in the emerald lakes in the warm light of the cabin.

Dean gave a closed-lip smile as he leaned forward a bit to lay a kiss on her forehead. “Do you want to share a shower?”

She nodded, still drowning in those deep waters. “Will you stay?” She whispered.

“As long as I can, Y/N.”

“Then can I go with you?”

Dean paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Well, that may be for the best. By now, I bet neighbors know my name.”

She laughed and snuggled into him, her head resting on his arm. Maybe we do have a chance at a future after all.


End file.
